Immortal Paladin-Chapter 031 Street Kid

031 Street Kid

The festival was in full swing, and for once, I wasn’t thinking about schemes, cultivation, or impending death. Just three fellows wandering through the night, each enjoying it in their own way.

Fan Shi gnawed on a skewered grasshopper, the kind of street food that looked like it had crawled off the stick on its own. She chewed with perfect indifference, while I made a point of looking anywhere but at her.

Jia Yun, on the other hand, was the picture of refinement, holding a stick of dango with the grace of a noble sipping tea. If I ignored the fact that she was a murderous fox cultivator, she might have even passed for an ordinary girl.

Meanwhile, I was busy asserting dominance over a rigged festival game.

The goal was simple—land three rings on a beam to win a prize. It was designed to cheat players out of their money, but I refused to rely on my cultivation. No supernatural perception, no qi manipulation. Just raw skill. Or, more accurately, abusing my stats.

For the last throw, I shut my eyes, tossed the ring, and listened.

Clink.

I grinned before I even opened my eyes. “Hah! Victory.”

Fan Shi and Jia Yun stared at me with the enthusiasm of monks at morning prayers.

The stall owner, an old man with a kindly smile, clapped his hands. “A fine throw, young master! Choose a prize.”

I gestured toward a goldfish mask hanging at the side.

Masks were a common sight during the festival. Some bore the faces of celestial beasts, others of vengeful spirits. Mine was neither—just a simple goldfish with a lacquered surface and an expression that teetered between serene and absurd.

I tied it on, adjusting it until the eye holes aligned properly. “How do I look?”

Jia Yun barely glanced at me. “Jia Yun thinks the young master looks fine.”

Fan Shi tilted her head, studying me with the solemnity of an appraising merchant. “…It looks acceptable.”

I squinted at her. “I hear doubt in your voice.”

She shrugged, unimpressed, and went back to her grasshopper.

Meanwhile, Jia Yun had already stepped forward. Without hesitation, she placed a full payment on the counter. “The fox mask.”

The elderly stall owner, pleased by her straightforwardness, handed her a red-and-white fox mask with delicate gold detailing. Unlike me, she didn’t tie it on properly. Instead, she slid it onto her head like a headband, letting it rest above her forehead. It suited her more than I cared to admit.

Fan Shi, having finished the last bite of her grasshopper skewer, wordlessly walked to another stall and bought another.

They were… quiet.

I wasn’t expecting them to dance in the streets, but should it really be this hard to enjoy a festival?

To my left, Jia Yun nibbled delicately on her dango, fox mask resting atop her head. To my right, Fan Shi took measured, precise bites from yet another grasshopper skewer. Neither had spoken to the other since we arrived.

They weren’t just ignoring each other. They were ignoring each other.

Oh well. At least I was having fun.

I wandered between stalls, taking in the festival’s sights and scents. The air was thick with the aroma of sizzling meat, sweet pastries, and faint traces of incense. Lanterns of every color swayed above the crowd, bathing the streets in a warm, dreamlike glow.

At one stand, a vendor carved miniature sugar sculptures with the precision of a master artisan. At another, a fortune teller waved her hands dramatically over a glowing crystal ball, whispering ominous predictions to a rapt audience.

Further ahead, an arm-wrestling contest drew cheers and laughter. A burly man crushed challengers left and right, slamming their hands onto the table with hearty guffaws. I considered joining—then thought better of it. My reputation was already strange enough without me utterly humiliating some poor street performer.

Instead, I focused on the real reason I was here—having fun, my way.

I tossed rings at another game stall, landing them cleanly on the prize beams. I flipped a coin into a lucky well, making a wish I immediately forgot. I challenged myself to balance on one foot while waiting in line for fried dumplings.

Yes. This was nice.

Then, suddenly, a kid crashed into Jia Yun.

The impact happened fast—a small figure collided into her side, twisting away before anyone could react. A pickpocket.

But Fan Shi was faster.

Without hesitation, she extended her foot, sweeping the kid off balance.

I sighed.

The child tumbled forward, landing with a startled oof! before scrambling to sit up. A tiny, dirt-smeared hand clutched something tightly to their chest.

Fan Shi’s gaze was cold, unyielding. “Stealing is wrong.”

Jia Yun smoothed her sleeves, her tone calm but firm. “Return it.”

The kid looked like a stray—tangled dark hair, sun-darkened skin, clothes of rough linen worn thin by time. There was a sharpness in his eyes, though, a wariness that reminded me of a cornered animal.

He was around our age… or at least, the same chibi form we currently wore.

Gritting his teeth, he clutched the stolen item tighter. “Over my dead body.”

And then, like a trapped beast, he bolted.

Jia Yun moved before I could stop her.

A single, fluid motion—her leg swept forward, hooking the kid’s ankle. He hit the ground hard.

Before he could even react, Jia Yun raised a fist, poised to strike.

I caught her wrist mid-air.

She blinked, startled, her cold expression cracking for the briefest moment.

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Ignoring the kid’s angry squirming, I crouched down and picked up the stolen item—a silver hairpin adorned with delicate blue gems. It gleamed softly under the lantern light.

I turned to Jia Yun and held it out.

She took it without a word.

With careful, deliberate strokes, she began wiping it clean, a faint mist of ice qi swirling around her fingers. Frost shimmered along the surface as she purified it, ensuring not a single speck of filth remained.

Only after it was spotless did she tuck it back into her silver hair.

Meanwhile, the kid tensed, ready to bolt again.

I sighed. A slight shift of my foot pinned his leg down just enough to keep him from escaping. He struggled briefly, then scowled up at me, defiant.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

The kid bared his teeth. “Go drown yourself, rich boy.”

I raised a brow. “That’s not a name.”

“You deaf or just stupid?”

Jia Yun tilted her head. “Senior Da, do you wish for this Jia Yun to remove his tongue?”

The kid paled slightly but didn’t waver. “You—!”

I sighed, crouching lower. “Look, I don’t really care that much, but if you keep running your mouth, I will rough you up.”

His face twisted in frustration before he finally spat out, “Yu Tai.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I lifted my foot. “Now, why’d you steal?”

Yu Tai hesitated. Then, scowling, he muttered, “I’m just a hungry orphan.”

That was all he said. But it was enough.

I stepped back. “Fine. You can go.”

Yu Tai blinked, caught off guard. “…What?”

“I said go. Or do you want Jia Yun to take your tongue after all?”

His eyes darted between us, suspicious, clearly expecting some kind of trick. When none came, he gave a sharp nod and bolted into the night.

Fan Shi watched as Yu Tai vanished into the night, her expression contemplative. “Despite the City Governor’s wisdom, poverty still lingers.” Her voice was quiet, yet thoughtful. “Strange, isn’t it?”

Jia Yun turned to me, unreadable as ever. “Senior Da, why did you let the thief go?”

I stretched lazily. “Because he doesn’t belong here.”

Jia Yun frowned. “Jia Yun does not understand.”

Fan Shi tilted her head. “Not from here?”

I grinned. “Follow closely.”

With a flick of my will, I shifted my TriDivine Skill to Divine Speed, feeling the change as my senses sharpened and my body grew lighter. The moment Yu Tai had brushed against Jia Yun, I had already memorized his presence within my Divine Sense.

There was no running from me.

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I took off, weaving through the festival crowd, tracking the kid’s presence as he slipped through alleys and side streets. Fan Shi and Jia Yun followed, their movements swift but controlled.

Yu Tai wasn’t just some common street rat.

The kid knew what he was doing.

He was fast—not inhumanly so, but quick enough to use the festival’s winding streets to his advantage, darting between stalls and slipping through distracted crowds with practiced ease. He moved like someone who had done this a thousand times before. It was almost impressive.

But I wasn’t worried.

Here in Yellow Dragon City, even beggars had roofs over their heads. The city’s prosperity wasn’t just for show—it was built on a foundation of strict order and stability. Even three unattended children could wander its streets without trouble.

I had spent enough time here to know its layout like the back of my hand. Every shortcut, every alley, every hidden nook—I had mapped them all. And in all that time, I had never seen a true slum. There were poorer districts, certainly, but nothing resembling the lawless underbellies found in other cities.

Which meant one thing—

Yu Tai was an outsider.

It wasn’t uncommon. Lost Legends Online and most medieval fantasy settings loved using street kids as disposable tools—smugglers, thieves, information brokers. Small, quick, easy to exploit. And with the festival drawing in travelers and fortune-seekers from all over, it was the perfect time to slip a few extra hands into the city.

Yu Tai wasn’t just some hungry orphan.

I pushed forward, keeping my pace controlled. If I rushed, I’d only spook him into a tighter escape route. No, I wanted him to lead me somewhere.

Let’s see where this rabbit hole went.

Yu Tai weaved through the festival streets, slipping past revelers and darting into narrow alleys. I kept Divine Speed active but restrained, tracking him effortlessly.

Eventually, we arrived at a tent tucked away in a secluded back alley, adjacent to several eateries. The scent of grilled meat and roasted chestnuts wafted over from nearby stalls, mixing with the damp, musty air. The tent itself was large but ragged, stitched together with mismatched fabrics, barely standing upright.

I exhaled.

I’d never seen myself as a hero. Well… outside of playing a Paladin in games. But in my past life, I’d been a teacher—a mundane existence, far removed from grand adventures and high-stakes moral dilemmas.

And yet, seeing this—knowing what was coming—made my stomach twist.

I was going to hate whatever was inside.

And sheesh, I was really starting to hate tropes.

Without a word, I jumped to the rooftops. Fan Shi and Jia Yun followed effortlessly, landing beside me with the grace of seasoned cultivators.

I turned to them. “Stay here. I’ll go alone.”

Below, the tent stretched across the alley like a temporary stronghold. The warm festival lights barely reached this part of the city, making it feel oddly detached from the lively streets beyond.

Two men sat by the entrance, playing checkers.

They were guards. No doubt about it. Their postures were too rigid, their eyes scanning every movement in the alley. Their armor was mismatched—a telltale sign of mercenaries or hired muscle. The stocky one, thick-bearded and broad-shouldered, was losing the game. He scowled at the board, moving his pieces with frustration. His opponent, a leaner man with sharp features, smirked as he made his move.

I opened Voice Chat, addressing David_69, my self-proclaimed Holy Spirit.

“I’m going to use Divine Possession to infiltrate and figure out what business these people have in Yellow Dragon City. If they’re trouble, I’ll deal with them. If a fight breaks out, call in the other two. Keep damage to a minimum.”

“Copy that,” David_69 answered.

I really needed to set up a proper appointment with this little guy sometime soon.

I exhaled and focused on the stocky guard. He looked healthy, if a bit stressed—perfect for a vessel. With a thought, I activated my only remaining spell slot.

"Divine Possession."

It was honestly… a waste of spell slot, but there were just things I couldn’t let go… exploiting kids? Nah. Not under my watch.

A familiar pulling sensation gripped me as my consciousness detached from my body and surged into the guard. The world blurred—then snapped into focus through new eyes. I felt the weight of thick arms, the tension in his shoulders, the lingering heat of frustration from the game.

Time to see whether I was just being paranoid…

Or if a righteous cause was about to land in my lap.

Divine Possession was a strange spell. Normally, I shared control with the possessed, but sometimes, my stats alone completely overpowered them. It had happened with Pan Xia before. And it was happening again.

The guy didn’t resist. Not even a flicker of awareness. Just… silence.

Complete possession.

I had to be careful with that.

For now, I focused on blending in. I moved a checker piece, playing as naturally as possible. Across from me, the lean guard remained fixated on the board, seemingly unaware that his partner—who had been losing all night—was suddenly making winning moves.

“So, what’s Boss been up to?” I asked casually, placing my piece down with what I hoped was the same level of familiarity as the original guy.

It was a bluff. For all I knew, they didn’t even have a Boss.

The other guard snorted. “Probably scheming how to appeal to the City Lord’s empathy, hoping to get a chance to prove ourselves… and maybe, just maybe, earn citizenship.” He moved his piece with a resigned sigh. “Always the… begging… but this time, we’re begging the City Lord.”

I paused mid-move.

Okay. Maybe I’d assumed they were bad people a little too quickly.

I liked to think I tried to see the good in people, but in reality? I was just as susceptible to knee-jerk reactions as anyone else. Maybe it was the xianxia setting—this world had turned me paranoid, always expecting the worst.

But if they were here to plead for a place in Yellow Dragon City rather than run a criminal enterprise, then this was a different kind of story entirely.

I kept playing, keeping my tone casual. “So, how long have we been here?” I asked, feigning curiosity while setting up a double-jump.

“A few days. Came in when the festival gates opened,” the guard answered, scratching his head before making a move. “What kind of question is that? Are you drunk?”

I ignored that and asked instead, “And we’re really hoping for citizenship?”

“Yeah. Boss says we just need a chance. If we can prove we’re useful, maybe they’ll let us stay.”

I subtly activated Divine Sense, scanning him for any trace of deception.

Nothing. Not even a flicker of hesitation. He truly believed in what he was saying.

Huh. That was unexpected.

I opened Voice Chat and addressed David_69. “Show Jia Yun and Fan Shi a good time while I get the full story out of this.”

“Copy that,” came the reply.

Satisfied, I finished the game—winning, of course—and stood up, stretching. “Well, time to go in.”

The other guard barely glanced up. “Boss is inside. Don’t do anything stupid.”

I entered the tent.

It was larger than I’d expected—and packed. Men, women, and a surprising number of children huddled together, eating simple meals. Some bore the look of people who’d seen better days—former artisans or laborers fallen on hard times—while others were clearly street folk.

The kids especially stood out. Their clothes were ragged, their faces smeared with dirt.

And at the center of it all stood the Boss.

She wore a blue mask, obscuring her features. But even without seeing her face, there was presence—the kind that made people naturally listen. She moved among them, overseeing food distribution, ensuring everyone got their share.

I stepped forward, grabbed a ladle, and casually started helping.

Alright. This wasn’t too bad…